


Unexpectedly Abrupt

by Arlome



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/pseuds/Arlome
Summary: "“Detective?” he begins tentatively, trying to discern what was it he did that lead to such an expression to manifest on her face when she suddenly lurches forward, and jerks him by the lapels of his jacket towards her, to meet her lips."A somewhat AU moment between our favourite couple; will probably fit somewhere at the end of S2 and the beginning of S3.





	Unexpectedly Abrupt

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fic in this lovely fandom!  
> May this be the first of many:)  
> Hope you like it...

It starts simply enough. He convinces her to join him for a celebratory drink after a particularly emotionally-draining case, to which she agrees somewhat reluctantly. She’s in a melancholy mood – the case being too sinister, even by his generous standards – and so she trails almost listlessly after him into the lift leading to his penthouse and plops down unto the leather sofa once inside. 

He fixes them both a drink; two glasses of neat Speyside single malt whisky that makes him oddly nostalgic for that one time when he visited the Highlands back in 1745. The faint aroma of oak and berries makes his lips curve slightly upwards and he inhales greedily before sitting down on the sofa next to the brooding woman. She reaches for her drink absentmindedly and their fingers brush; he tries to write off the sinking sensation in his abdomen as vulnerability-induced slight indigestion in her presence. 

“To you, Detective,” he says earnestly once he shakes off the fluttery feeling and raises his drink in salute; she smiles at him sadly, her loose hair falling into her tired eyes.

“And you, Lucifer,” she retorts softly, her gaze fixing on the amber liquid swirling in her glass, “it’s just…” She breaks off, unable, or unwilling, to continue this line of thought.  
“Just what?” he prompts her, leaning in, inching forward like he does when he uses his ‘eye mojo’ on their suspects. The Detective simply shrugs mournfully.

“I just hope we could have done more – sooner.”

Lucifer scoffs, his shoulders lifting slightly, and he takes another sip from his drink. 

“Detective, please,” he says, his eyes narrow and dangerously close to reflecting that Hellfire that always lurks behind them, “thanks to you, the evil cretin will never hurt another woman again. You should be celebrating, not moping around!”

She shrugs again and looks away from him, not overly encouraged by his ‘pep-talk’. He frowns and cocks his head to the side in frustration. No, this will simply not do. He plucks the drink out of her hand, ignores her astonished protest, and places both glasses on the floor; sliding closer to her on the sofa, he takes her hands in his and squeezes slightly for emphasis. The Detective’s eyes are wide and moist, and with a sinking feeling – not unlike the one he’s experienced a few moments ago – Lucifer realizes that the case took more than the usual toll from the dejected woman before him.

“Detective, “he begins; then, deciding that this moment calls for something more, hesitantly, adds, “Chloe,” and watches as her eyes soften, “this is not on you- none of this is on you. Not even that last murdered girl that we were unable to reach in time – _now, now, Detective_ – “he cuts her off when she tries to protest, “You’re not God – and believe me, I’m giving you a compliment here- you can’t be everywhere at the same time.”

She stares at him with a strange look in her large, bright eyes and he can’t help but feel out of his depth in this odd little moment between them.

“Detective?” he begins tentatively, trying to discern what was it he did that lead to such an expression to manifest on her face when she suddenly lurches forward, and jerks him by the lapels of his jacket towards her, to meet her lips. 

This kiss is very much unlike that soft, hesitant kiss they shared on the beach before she was so cruelly poisoned. No; this kiss is fundamentally different. Hard, desperate – almost feral – teeth, and bruised lips and not much else; but it is brilliant and goes straight to his groin before he even realises that the Detective is breathing life into his pliant mouth and moans brokenly against his tongue. It takes him a moment, but he finally reciprocates with great ardour and gusto; his hands taking hold of her waist, almost bruising in their determination to clutch her as close to him as physically possible. He’s out of breath – already out of breath – with this little snogging session, and he becomes strangely lightheaded from the low supply of oxygen he’s getting, due to his mouth being too preoccupied for such a trivial task as _breathing._ The Detective pushes the jacket down his shoulders and he hastens to shrug it off, throwing it over the sofa with little care. She smiles at the gesture, and he can feel her shifting into his lap, and – Oh, _Hell-_ he’s already impossibly hard when she pushes him down unto the cushions and settles on top of him, never breaking their frantic kiss.

He enjoys sex, _loves_ sex, as much as the next red-blooded devil; hell, he practically invented the thing – well, the good, deviant kind, anyway- but this… _this,_ is different than anything he’s ever experienced in his long, eternal existence. His all too mortal heart is thudding erratically in his chest, skipping beats almost delinquently, cutting corners in all that has to do with functioning properly. The hands that were previously holding on to the Detective’s waist as if it were a lifeline, glide lower to cup her buttocks and _squeeze._ She moans into his open mouth, twisting eagerly in his lap, the fabric of her jeans rubbing determinedly against the obvious strain in his trousers. 

It’s all getting a little too much, too soon, Lucifer realises with a jolt when the Detective presses impossibly close to him, her fingers tugging on the short hair at his nape, and _sinfully_ breathes his name in his ear. There’s pressure, and friction, and the air is leaving his lungs in desperate gulps and, _and-_ she moves against him a little faster now, making such delicious little noises, the tip of her tongue brushing his ear shell –

With an abrupt gasp, Lucifer shudders and stills beneath her and everything freezes.

The first sound that registers in his ears when the sudden shock fades, is the Detective’s sharp breathes against his jaw. Hesitating slightly, she pushes herself upwards and shifts her wide eyes to his lap where, sure enough, a small, dark stain spreads slowly like the plague, killing desire and passion in its wake. 

Lucifer’s face is so hot, he wonders if he’s accidentally activated his Devil face; his fingers tremble against her hips.

“Detective, I- “he stutters miserably. He’s mortified- _mortified-_ and the tremor in his fingers seems to spread to his hands, so he balls them into fists at her sides hard enough to embed his blunt fingernails into his palms.

“Don’t be embarrassed!” she gushes, grabbing his fists in her hands and squeezing them for support; but this only makes things _worse,_ and Lucifer feels like he’s chocking, “it happens to everyone, really!”

“But not to me!” he almost whines with the injustice of it all, “Detective, I assure you; never, _never,_ in all my existence- “

The touch of her hands framing his face silences him, and he is forced to meet her eyes; she’s smiling faintly, and her cheeks are pink.

“Lucifer, I really don’t mind,” she says quietly, and her blush deepens, “if you must know the truth, I was very close myself; it was quite intense…”

He shifts with her in his lap at the knowledge, and his hands settle on her hips again.

“Let me make it up to you, darling,” he tries to purr, but what leaves his throat is a bit too close to pleading for comfort, “allow me to give you the release you deserve; I’d love nothing more than to eat you out.”

The Detective blanches for an odd second, but then her face turns red and she tries, unsuccessfully, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Uh, I,” she stutters and scrambles off his lap, “n-no…I don’t think it’s a good idea; probably for the best that we didn’t…I should probably leave…”

Lucifer sifts on the sofa and raises to his knees; his hand manages to grasp the Detective’s wrist before she manages to bolt to the lift. She spins towards him with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression.

“Chloe, _please,”_ the sudden use of her name only widens her eyes, giving her an almost comical look, “I can’t let you leave here unsatisfied…I- you won’t regret it, I assure you.”

Hesitating for a moment, she purses her lips in thought, but then she makes up her mind and steps forwards; her fingers find his shoulder.

“But I’m afraid I will, Lucifer,” she admits quietly, and smiles a bit sadly at him, “we got carried away; I’m to blame, I’m sorry – “

“What? No- “

“Yes, I am,” she insists and squeezes his shoulder when he tries to interrupt her, “It was reckless of me…” Then, hesitating, as if on a reckless whim, she leans closer to him and huffs, “Now, don’t let it go to your big head, but you have nothing to be mortified about, this was the best make-out session in the history of make-out sessions, Lucifer.”

He frowns, now even more confused and disgruntled than before she revealed this little detail.

“But, Detective- “

“I think I should be going now,” she says quickly, unwilling to let him finish a sentence; she kisses his cheek, lingering a bit, and squeezes his shoulder again before her fingers slip to her side, “Bye, Lucifer; er, thanks for the drink…” 

She’s in the lift before he has a chance to protest again, disappearing in a cloud of disappointment and regret, and leaving him alone to lick his wounds. When the chime of the closing doors dies in the suddenly stifling air of the penthouse, Lucifer settles against the cushions and swears.

***

Later, at the constant nagging of his most trusted demon, he reveals the reason behind the sulking spell that seems to engulf him entirely.

Mazikeen laughs for ten minutes straight. 

_Bloody_ vulnerability.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm toying with the idea of making this a two-chapter fic....  
> Any thoughts?


End file.
